Love Is
by VIVIANVAMPYRIC
Summary: READER X VARIOUS. A series of one-shots.
1. Candy

_Candy

* * *

_You sat across the table from Lambo, your eyes watching his adorably focused face as he colored. "Pink!" He demanded, holding out his hand to you as he scribbled rigorously with the other one. You pulled a Carnation Crayola out of the box and put it into his tiny grasp. He dropped the navy blue crayon before you retrieved it to slip it back into where it belonged: in the slot next to the Cerulean crayon. You loved these afternoons with him. It was just you and him sitting at the dining room table at the Vongola base, with I-Pin off somewhere with Biancci, Haru and Kyoko. Tsuna, Gokudera and Yamamoto were in the training room, so you were left to take care of the young Bovino Mafioso.

"Yellow-green!" He exclaimed, as you pulled out both Yellow-green and Green-yellow, knowing he had no idea which of the two he wanted. He threw the pink crayon at you, and with an awaiting hand; you caught it. You loved Lambo like a son, his sweet innocence keeping you grounded in the midst of these hard times, and you also protected him like such. If Gokudera had the audacity to make him cry, a hateful glare was sent his way, instantly shutting up the silver-haired smartass. After all, there was nothing scarier than a female with a bull's temperament, right? Needless to say, Lambo clung onto you like the burrs on his tail whenever he ran through a meadow, dotted with Galium Aparine, the nasty weed that produced the little nuisances.

You brushed a gentle hand through his puffy hair as you retrieved everything your hand hit: three bubble gum pink hand grenades, one wrapped swirly lollipop, a bag of unopened gumdrops, the 10 Year Bazooka, the Vongola ring and a paddle brush. "Hey, what are you doing?" He exclaimed, struggling under your soft touch, a smile gracing your features as you moved behind him.

"Lambo, settle down. I have to brush your hair." At this, he seemed to quiet down as he thrusted the gumdrops at you, Lambonese for OPEN NOW! You giggled and ripped the plastic open with a swift tug before handing it back to him as you continued to pull his brush through his explosive, matted locks.

"Cherry, lemon, lime! Lambo-San **LOVES **gum drops!" He sang with a triumphant laugh. "Look, look! I drew you!" He exclaimed, as another giggle escaped your mouth. The drawing was messy and unclear with a plethora of colors decorating your so-called face, but it was clear that he had put his whole effort into it, judging by the radiant smile on his features. With one more gentle tug, you freed all the tangles from his hair. You gathered him up in your arms, hugging his small body to yours in an affectionate embrace.

"Thank you, Lambo." You said, placing the things carefully in his hair again. "Hey, Lambo-Kun?" You questioned, as you worked diligently, leaving the lollipop out for him to consume.

"Mmm?" He asked, popping three gum drops into his mouth before turning around in your arms.

"What is love, Lambo-Kun?" You inquired, as he thought for a moment, chewing the gumdrops slowly before swallowing.

"Love? That's easy!" He exclaimed, his words accompanied with another exultant laugh. "Love is candy!" He said, handing you his treasured swirly lollipop.


	2. Sacrifice

_Sacrifice

* * *

_A crash sounded downstairs as you shot up in bed, casting a glance at the digital clock that sat on the nightstand next to you. The neon orange numbers flashed in the dark, 5:30. _Who_ the fuck would dare to break into your house at 5:30 a.m.? Your hand wandered around on the surface of the nightstand, feeling around for the switch to the lamp. Light flooded to the room as you used the back of your hand to brush the sand away from the corners of your eyes. After you grabbed your boyfriend's fuzzy hoodie and put it on, you slipped your hand into the sidepocket, fingering the cool metal of the gun. You loaded it like he taught you, and cocked it, getting ready for the worst. You zipped the jacket up, covering up the oversized t-shirt you wore, feeling a wave of anxiety envelope you. Before you burst out of your room, you cleared your throat, making sure that there were no frogs there - after all, how threatening could you be with a hoarse voice?

"I have a gun and don't think I won't fucking shoot you with it, especially since you woke me up - ... Dino?" At this point, you stood atop your staircase, staring at the window directly under you. A large wriggling body was stuck between the half-way opened window, and before you knew it, loud laughter escaped from your lips, echoing throughout your house. You disarmed the gun, and pulled out a piece of Wintergreen gum from the other jacket pocket before shoving it into your mouth. "Oh, honey. What are you doing stuck in between my windows at 5:30 a.m. for Pete's sake?" Although you sounded slightly exasperated, you really didn't mind. He _was_ your boyfriend after all, and as far as you knew, he could do no wrong.

You eyed the shards of glass that decorated the carpet at the base of the window. You can only imagine what happened, picturing him getting stuck between the windows and trying to grab onto something, grabbing onto a rather valuable vase. You spotted a pair of slippers next to the stairs, and stepped into them before walking through the glass gingerly. "I'll open the window more, but don't crawl in through this way... I need to clean the glass up, okay?" He bobbed his head up and down before you leaned down and kissed the top of his head. A soft chuckle could be heard as you slid the window upwards. He pushed himself out of the window when you raised the window and made his way to the front door, ringing your doorbell. His antics amused you to no end as you giggled and jogged to the front door.

You flung it open, and was greeted by his sweet, sheepish expression. "I'm sorry, I don't believe I ordered a wakeup call." You said, as he held a daisy up in front of him, no doubt picked from your neighbor's garden. You could feel your heart melt as you took the flower from him, and as he took you in his arms, closing the door with his hip as he entered.

"Good morning?" The young Mafioso greeted, as you reached up to hug him around the neck. You pressed your lips against his creamy skin, feeling so safe and so small in his large arms.

"Morning, love. Where's Romario?" You asked, as he brushed the back of his hand against your smooth cheek.

"Sleeping. Like you were." He said simply as he chuckled.

"Like most normal people on a Sunday morning." You said, shaking your head and brushing a hand through your tousled hair.

"I have a method to my madness - I swear!" He insisted, smiling. His grin windened as you shot him a questioning glance as if to ask, _So? What is it? _"It's a surprise." He stated, before his lips tightened into a firm line. You'd been dating him long enough to know what _that_ meant - that, coupled with the way his stubborn jaw was set, meant that he wasn't going to tell you jack shit. You sighed lightly before kissing his jaw. "Go up to your room and come down in... Three hours." Dino instructed, loosening his arms around you and letting you pull out.

"Well, jeez. Thanks dad." You muttered, stepping out of the slippers and making your way up the stairs.

"I HEARD THAT. DON'T THINK THAT I DON'T SEE THAT HOODIE ON! I GIVE UP ON EVER GETTING THAT BACK!" He exclaimed as you laughed.

You walked into your room and was just about to close the door before you heard him hollar, "THREE HOURS, YOU HEAR!" You shook your head again, and rolled your eyes. "GOT IT!" A grin pulled across your lips before you sighed and walked over to your closet. You dropped down to your knees and dug through a mountain of laundry. You pulled out some low-rise jeans and a navy blue tank top to layer underneath his large, olive green hoodie.

It was his favorite hoodie, that is, before you stole it from him, four months before. You'd been dating for two months then, and on a particularly cold night over at his house, you'd snagged his jacket. Innocent enough, until you slipped your hands into the pockets. Your hand encircled the barrel of a gun. Your eyes had widened as you waved it around at him, making him cringe in fright. After all - a hysterical woman with a loaded gun wasn't his idea of a good date. That night, instead of it being _Movie Night_, it had turned into _Explanation Night_, as he revealed the truth about himself. He was the head of the Cavallone family, and honestly, just being with him was endangering your life.

It frightened you, yes, but he'd taught you how to use the gun. The gun, he told you, wasn't an ordinary gun. You'd pestered him about the repercussions of using such a weapon, but he refused to answer, adopting that same tight-lipped look he had on earlier. All he told you, was to keep it on you at all times and to shoot it _only_ when it was truly necessary. Now, you weren't going to go around shooting a weapon for no good reason, and he knew that, but his serious look - more serious than he'd ever looked before, reinforced that thought.

_"Do you still want to be with me?" _He had asked, his gray eyes edged with sadness. You took his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze.  
_"Of course!" _His shocked expression still made you giggle to this day.  
_"Aren't you afraid?"_

You'd nodded. You were afraid back then, and you still were, but being with him... Being with him was worth it.

_'After all,' _You thought. _'Love is sacrifice.' _


	3. Sleep Wear

_Sleep Wear

* * *

_"I'm telling you! I'm gonna be a mafia boss!" A loud voice exclaimed, accompanied by the clinks of chains that dangled wildly from the pockets of Naito Longchamp's pants. You've been in his class for three years now, and sometimes, simply _listening_ to him was like running in a track meet. _Exhausting_.

You smoothed down the edge of your soft yellow skirt, part of the Namimori Uniform as everyone settled into their desks. A tiny teacher stood on the surface of the desk, introducing himself as the substitute, Reboyama. Quiet murmurs sounded through the room, and you could catch statements hanging in the air like, _Why is he still here? _Or, _He's super scary. _You didn't say anything and instead, placed your chin on the hand of your propped up arm, adopting quite a bored look, until something incredibly interesting happened.

"Let's choose a class president today. Any nominations?" Reboyama asked, as your eyes widened slightly. That was something different, a rather exciting thing to do on an otherwise droll Monday morning. To nobody's surprise, Naito was nominated, and to _everyone's_ surprise, Gokudera Hayato nominated Tsuna.

_'No-Good-Tsuna?' _You thought, with eyes wide. _'What horrible nominees. What about Yamamoto-San? Or, Akira-Kun? They were liked by most everyone, but... Useless Tsuna and Naito Longchamp?' _You resisted the urge to shake your head. _'What was the world coming to?'_

The lackeys, Gokudera and Mangusta started to brag about each one of the candidate's accomplishments (or lack thereof) and it all bored you to death, until Naito started to brag about his _girlfriend_. For some reason, through all the years that you knew him, he'd always managed to snag onto a significant other. You could too, but there was a certain someone you had your eye on, who never seemed to be single.

"C'mon, Terumi! Don't be shy, come flying in through the door!" Naito exclaimed, with his hands overlapped over his heart. A big-boned girl stood in the doorway, as everyone goggled at her. She had a uni-brow and puckered lips, coupled with a strange ponytail sprouting out of her head like some sort of demented pineapple. She wore the Namimori Uniform jacket with a couple of buttons missing from it, popped off probably due to her effort to secure the jacket around her rather wide torso. "Terumi! You're so cute!" He exclaimed loudly, making all of the other students cringe.

See, this was one of the reasons why you were so fond of the obnoxiously loud boy. All of his girlfriends had that tragic look about them, either incredibly short, or incredibly tall, incredibly thin or... like the girl who just fled from the vicinity of the room, incredibly large. You and the rest of the class couldn't help but feel bad for her, as Naito obsessed about his girlfriend.

"Oh, my sweet Terumi! How adorable! How loveable!" He raved, as you settled your gaze upon him. Honestly, it wasn't just the fact that he didn't mind what others looked like, in fact it was just... It was everything. His naivete, his infectious smile, his impeccable style.

"Pair up, everyone!" Reboyama instructed before a mad scramble quickly took place. You gazed around the classroom before your eyebrows furrowed. Your only friend in this class, Yuka-San, had been conveniently absent. Probably for the first and _only_ time we were allowed to choose our partners in Namimori _history_. _Fantastic_. The teacher eyed you from on top of his desk, making you shrink down in your seat. The other students were right, Reboyama _was_ intimidating.

"Naito Longchamp, you are not allowed to pair up with Mangusta and this young lady doesn't have a partner." Reboyama stated curtly.

"Eh? Oh! Ok! You heard him, Mangusta!" Naito exclaimed with loud laughter. The edges of your own lips turned upwards, as Reboyama started to explain the objectives to this short project, that was due tomorrow. Reboyama dismissed everyone once he was finished with the instructions, as you turned your head towards Naito.

"I guess we're partners for this project, huh?" Naito bobbed his head up and down with a smile on his face.

"Mmhm! Here's my address!" He said, handing a business card to you. "Come over at five! I've got some things to do before then!" He said as you nodded obediently. He sped off with Mangusta before you walked out of the classroom, alone. When you opened the front door, you were greeted by loud arguing. You were the youngest of four sisters who all seemed to be well... the biggest bitches in town. When you weren't around all they seemed to do was fight and when you were... all they did was attack you.

"How was school today?" One of them asked, her fake blonde hair shining in the light.

"Probably got ignored by cute boys -"

"- Or teased about her weight -"

"- Or, got beat up for being so ugly!" They all burst out into giggles, with their brown eyes glittering maliciously. You willed yourself not to satisfy them with a response, and breathed out quietly.

"I'm leaving at five. I have to do a project." You said, feeling utterly defeated as you started to head up the stairs, walking to your room.

"We'll be out partying then. Later!" A voice called out, as a fit of laughter could be heard.

_'Hyenas.' _You thought, countless number of nicknames for you made you nauseous as you felt your tough shell crumble apart. After putting up with their bullshit for ten years - alright _maybe_ not that long - you weren't sure that you could do this anymore. Your parents barely existed, busying themselves with work as your older sisters dabbled with drugs, drinking, and sex. You felt fresh tears well up in your eyes, and you didn't feel like going to Naito's house at all anymore. You shakily picked up your cellphone and dialed the number on the card. You wiped the tears from your face and cleared your throat.

"Moshi moshhhh~!" His loud voice sang as he picked up the phone. The noise nearly made your ear drums explode as you hastily turned the volume down.

"Hey, Naito... It's me. I was supposed to go to your house for the project tonight, remember? I can't make it. I have a headache, and I'm incredibly nauseous." You said, holding onto the phone with one hand as you stepped into a pair of flannel pajama pants.

"Eh? Really? Well, I suppose there's nothing I can do about that..." The disappointment in his voice was eminent, as your own voice cracked in reply.

"Sorry again, Naito-San." You responded before hanging up. You changed into a huge t-shirt and washed your reddened face. You were getting ready to plop into bed before you heard loud footsteps tromping up the stairs, presumably your sisters in their stripper boots. You gasped as the door flew open, revealing Naito. You observed him and admired his casual clothing decorated with studs and chains. Your eyes fell on his black boots. There was a large platinum buckle attached to its straps with the letter _S _(a famous Italian brand, maybe?) engraved on shiny metal, the boots, no doubt, the culprit of the stomps on the stairs. "_Naito-San?_" You questioned, your eyes wide. "What're you doing here?"

Naito stood in the center of the room next to Mangusta, whose arms were filled with all sort of supplies for your project. A cardboard trifold formed the base of the tower he held in his arms, as various other things were stacked on top of it like markers, cardstock, a couple of library books, pencils, rulers and a plastic container with steam escaping from the sides of the lid.

"Ay, ay! I decided to come over since you refused to come over! The door was open! I brought all my supplies! My grades have been _really_ lousy and I can't fail any more classes. I'm willing to do most of the work if you're feeling unwell! Mangusta has soup and crackers, and..." He trailed off as he gazed over at you, clad in your sleep wear. You cursed yourself for looking so _freaking _gross, and crossed your arms quickly across your chest before you blushed furiously.

"I-I-I'm sorry, but..." You started, stuttering before he seemed to regain his ability to speak again.

"You look so adorable in your pajamas! So cute, so loveable! The big t-shirt, the pajama pants! So _bold_!_ Love_ is sleep wear, after all!"


	4. Abusive

_Abusive

* * *

_Staying with the Varia… Well, that was interesting. No, actually, it pretty much sucked. You only had one reason to be there, and his name began with an X. You'd known him a long time, ever since people thought that he was actually the Ninth's son. Yeah… it had been a really long time. Unfortunately, too long of a time. You'd fallen in love with the soft spoken boy and the abrasive (but sweet underneath, you were sure) teenager.

You didn't know what drew you in, but it sure as hell wasn't that asshole sitting in his throne. The one that had no idea what an inside voice was. The one who had not a gentle, nor loving bone in his body. The one who treated you like the filth that belonged in one place. The trash. Why were you there again? Oh yeah, because you couldn't help it. You couldn't help but feel those tingles whenever you saw him. Whenever you saw his constant scowl. Whenever you saw his messy, dark hair. Whenever you saw his narrowed, red eyes. Whenever you saw the feathers suspended from his neck.

People did stupid shit when they were in love. Just look at Romeo and Juliette. Tragic, and admittedly, horribly cliché. Shall we give it another shot? Titanic…? Alright, even worse. What was love anyways? Upon meeting him, the meaning of the word had been horribly skewed. Love… You'd been told that love is a direct result of chemical reactions, but _strangely_ that didn't help your situation much. Whatever 'love' was, you were in it. There was nothing you could do but wish. Wish and pray that he would change.

Change. A six letter word that is tossed around constantly, but is rarely ever seen. Asking Xanxus to change was like asking Bel to stop laughing in that discordant manner, or like asking Lussuria to stop acting gay, or asking Squalo to shut his trap once in a while. All impossible. And, it broke your heart. You wished he could be who he used to be, but that was just a waste of brain function. You, along with everyone else in the castle knew it wasn't going to happen.

"TRASH! GET DOWN HERE!" Xanxus' voice yelled, blaring from all of the PA systems in the castle. Ever since you came to the castle as the head of Taking-Care-Of-Xanxus'-Ass, (thank you Squalo), you knew that he referred affectionately to you as trash, not Squalo. You rushed down to his room, the biggest one in the castle, and opened the door, peeking in meekly.

"Xanxus-Sama…? You called?" You asked, entering the room cautiously, careful not to meet his glowering crimson gaze. You walked to the base of the steps in the room, where he sat on the top of his raised platform, with his figure stretched out on his throne, his feet lazily propped up on the ottoman – the ultimate depiction of leisure.

"TRASH! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?" He demanded, throwing a plate of food at you, hitting your shoulder as the glass shattered against your body. You tried your best not to flinch, knowing that he was in one of his _throwing_ moods again. "I wanted steak not fucking pork! You worthless piece of trash, _please_ fucking tell me you know what the difference between a fucking cow and a pig is!" Xanxus roared, throwing a full bottle of Romanée Conti at you. The force (and the thought of the exorbitant price tag attached to the expensive burgundy liquid) made your stomach reel as you brought your fingers to your torso. Your fingers were dyed with a purple red, purple from the fermented grape juice, red from your abdomen that leaked your blood. "Get out of my fucking sight." He hissed, before pitching a glass at you, clipping your ear and hitting the wall behind you.

You didn't need to be told twice, scurrying out of the door as your quiet _sorries_ reverberated throughout the gigantic room. Lussuria waited for you outside before you finally glanced up from the rich, mahogany floor at you to the man whose look of concern spoke louder than Xanxus' reprimanding.

"It wasn't too bad today," You started, following him to his room where his Peacock would help patch you up, practically a tradition after your very first encounter after the boss. "I mean, it was my fault after all. I gave him pork instead of steak. I can't believe I was that stupid. I deserved it… Right?" You asked, hesitating for your only friend's input before he pulled your shirt up. He eyed your bleeding torso and the various shades of purple-blue blotches that decorated your rib cage, before sighing sadly.

"Oh, honey. Love is so abusive."


	5. Colorful

_Colorful

* * *

_"Lussu!" You exclaimed, running through the Varia castle. Your purple shirt had ripped, the sleeve slipping down your thin arm, your zebra striped bra strap peeking out. This was your favorite shirt that Lussuria had created for you, and you were in hysterics. Your favorite Varia member would fix it, you knew he would.

"VOIIIIIII! What's with you? Why're you so loud, trash!" Squalo exclaimed, as you turned to glare at him. As the only woman of the Varia, you were expected to be tough. And you were. If Squalo thought you were going to take his shit, he had another thought coming to him.

"Sharkboy, have you been spending more time than usual sucking the boss' dick? You're starting to sound just like him." You retorted, spotting Belphegor standing behind him with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Shishishi~!" He laughed, as you bristled, the irritating laugh getting on your last nerve. "Is the Princess angry?" Bel asked mockingly. You tried your best not to smash your fist into his face and instead pulled your facial muscles into a dirty scowl.

"Up yours Princess." You growled, as Lussuria peeked out of his room at you with a sleeping mask on his forehead. His eyes were half-open and sand decorated the corners of his orbs. For once, his signature sunglasses were void from his face. "Oh, Lussu! Help me!" You cried, running to his door and abandoning a scowling Squalo and a chortling Bel. A loud, dramatic gasp sounded from Lussuria's mouth.

"SHOO! SHOO! SHOO! _Shame_ on you two! How could you view the Princess in such a disheveled state? SqualoOoOo, it's expected from you, but Bel! _Belphegor_! SHOO! SHOO, BEL! SHOO, SQUALO! SHOO!" You giggled as you ran past him and into his room, showing him the ripped sleeve of your short sleeved shirt. Another gasp from Lussuria.

"How could you have done this to a Lussuria **original**!" He demanded, slipping his shades onto his face as he scrutinized you, his gaze shifting from you down to the shirt you wore.

"Help me, Lussu! This is my favorite shirt! I must've been training with Fran and one of his real illusions must've snagged onto my sleeve!" You said as he pulled out a lovely, lacy white sundress. It was adorable, something you would wear without a second thought. You gasped, as you reached out for the soft fabric of the dress, your fingers touching the cotton material. The pads of your fingers felt the eyelets of the delicate lace, your eyes widening. "Oh, _Lussuria_!" You said, your voice filled with admiration and awe.

"I made it for you, Princess! I know how you _haaaate_ the pink. I swear, you are like the female version of SqualoOoO!" Lussuria laughed, remembering how he'd forced you into a pink abomination that made your skin crawl.

"Queen, I doubt anyone likes pink, especially as much as you. But this dress, this dress is so beautiful." You held the dress up in front of your body and smoothed it down, a smile playing upon your full lips.

"Wear it, **wear it**, and I'll get to fixing your shirt now!" He busied himself with the sewing machine in the corner of his room, and turned away from you while you changed. You shook your head at this, knowing that he wanted to give you privacy, but to be honest, you didn't care. He _was_ gay. Why would you care? You slipped out of your shirt and threw it at his head, and stepped out of your pants before pulling the lacy dress on – a perfect fit! Lussuria turned to gaze at you in the dress, and a grin stretched across his face. "Oh, you! You look so looovely! Run along and let the **Queen** take care of your shirt!" He turned back to the sewing machine before you wrapped your arms around the tall man who frequently made you clothing.

"Lussuria, I love you!" You exclaimed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He tittered in quiet laughter as he waved you off out of his room, while he worked hard to mend your clothes. You skipped out in your new dress, prancing around the Varia Castle. You were deep in thought before you spotted Squalo with a scowl on his features. You blessed him with a bright smile along with two middle fingers, which made a growl rumble deep in his throat. You giggled and winked over at him, finding his 'aggressive' side rather sexy. It had always been like this, ever since you came to the castle, getting promoted to the Varia squad. You were always wary around Xanxus, got along best with Fran and Lussuria, constantly teased Squalo, ignored Levi, and _detested_ Bel. No one could understand why but you couldn't stand him, and he couldn't stand you. His grating laugh pissed you off, and his stupid Mink box weapon… well, you took pride in the fact that your wolf could rip his stupid ferret into shreds. On the other hand, Lussuria and Fran had personalities that broke the mold. Their attitudes made you happy and just the things they said made you crack up.

You hummed quietly to yourself as you went to the fridge, digging through everyone's food, trying to find your own grape soda. Instead of finding the purple drink, your hand hit a plastic pitcher of unlabeled Kool-Aid. Everyone knew of Squalo's love for strawberry Kool-Aid, but how it went when it came to the Varia fridge, was if anything was unlabeled, anyone could grab it and claim it for their own. You pulled the pitcher out and peeled the cap off of the top of it and brought the edge to your mouth, not even bothering to pull a glass out of the cupboards. How it _also_ went in the Varia Castle, was if you used any of the glassware or silverware, it was _your_ responsibility to wash it. And hell, you weren't planning to wash any of that stuff.

You turned around and jumped as you spotted Bel standing in the doorway. A quiet scream escaped your lips as he grinned widely over at you, the grin that you hated more than anything. After a moment, you realized that the artificial pink liquid had been spilled all over your front. Your face reddened, and his angering snicker started up again. He had _ruined_ sweet Lussuria's dress, and damnit, he was going to pay!

"I HATE YOU!" You exploded, making him laugh that horrid laugh again. "I HATE YOU SO MUCH!" You screamed, making globs of gray gel form in your palms. You lobbed them at him, but he avoided them neatly as the globs stuck to the door frame and exploded. Bel was damn lucky none of those hit him. If those globs touched the flesh of any living being, they would multiply, smothering the victim. If they stuck to an inanimate object, they would simply blow up, sort of what happened to the poor door frame. Fran and Squalo gathered in the kitchen to see what the commotion was all about. There was a chunk missing from the frame, thanks to what you affectionately referred to as the _gloops_.

"You ruined my nap." Fran frowned.

"He ruined my dress!" You exclaimed, pointing at Bel.

"VOIIIIII! MY KOOL-AID!"

"IT WASN'T LABELED, YOU JACKASS!" You exclaimed, throwing the pitcher at him before running out, pushing Bel out of the way. Fran, Squalo and Bel all stared at each other for a while before Belphegor broke the silence.

"Shishishi~… remind me why the boss let a _woman_ into Varia?"

You ran to Lussuria's room sniffling. All of his hard work was now decorated with a large, strawberry scented stain. "Lussu! Help me!" You shouted for the second time today. He turned around from the sewing machine, before gasping again, bringing his hand to his heart.

"HOOOOW COULD YOUUUU!" He cried out, before the disappointed tears actually fell from your eyes.

"BEL… BEL!" You choked out, wiping your face as he sighed, pulling you in for a hug.

"Princess, have you ever heard of tie-dye?"

You hadn't so he explained it to you. In order to salvage the dress, you would to anything, so you agreed to it. Both you and Lussuria got into some old clothes as you waited for the tied-up dress to soak in a clear solution. You brought out everything you needed outside and started to dye. It was a fun, messy process and in the middle of your dying, he placed his hands on your bare shoulders, leaving two magenta prints on your flesh. You remembered him telling you it stained, so you picked up a squirt bottle and shot it at him. You got his bare legs and by the time you were done dying, there was more dye on you and Lussuria than on the dress itself.

You two walked into the castle laughing, with one arm draped over your shoulder. You gave him a quick hug as he exclaimed, "oh! Love is soOoO colorful!"


	6. Pain

_Pain

* * *

_You awoke with a start in an unfamiliar room, your backside aching from the uncomfortable bench in the waiting room. It took you a couple of moments to realize where you were. A place of healing, yet a place your mind would always associate as a cold, desolate place. You stared at the off-white wall in front of you, a sigh escaping your lips. Off-white was just a sad excuse for "not white" - how dull. Oh, you hated the hospital. You hated being in them, and you hated even thinking about them. You pushed those thoughts from your mind as you started to daydream of your boyfriend instead, something happier to distract you from the not-white, not-beige walls.

He was such a sweet, sweet soul with such an amazing smile. His smile - oh his smile. It was enough to light up the darkest of nights, warm enough to melt through the coldest snow. You'd been dating him for a year now, and it was one of the best years of your life. Sakura viewing with him in the spring, taking walks outside with the leaves crunching underneath your Namimori uniform loafers during the fall, movies and cocoa in the winter, beach visits during the summer, and baseball year round, filling up the spaces in between... Yeah. It was a fantastic year, even though you'd hated baseball. You went to all of his games, and in order to repay you, he would cuddle with you on the couch and watch chick flicks. Suitable payment, if you were to ask me. He didn't seem like he minded much, after all, that was just his personality. He didn't mind much about anything. Anything but baseball, of course. He was so dedicated to the game. You remember the last baseball game you went to...

It was freezing outside, with a cold drizzle falling down from the dark clouds. Since you'd insisted upon going, your mother had forced you into a canary yellow poncho, but you didn't care. It _was_ one of the most important games in Nami _history_. (All right, so you didn't hate baseball as much as you claimed. Not that you'd let your sweet boyfriend know that!) So there you sat on the cold, wet bench clad in the blinding yellow garbage bag, making you look like a giant Hibird, but you didn't care. Your eyes were focused on the game. It had been an intense eight innings and unfortunately, there was only one inning left and Namimori was down by two. Your hands were clenched together tightly, your knuckles turning white. When you spotted your favorite baseball player, you stood up and started to yell.

"Yamamoto, I swear to God, if you miss this, I won't forgive you!" Your gaze was focused on the gangly boy, whose lips turned upwards upon hearing your outburst. He adjusted his hat before readying himself for the pitch, determined to hit the ball with everything he had.

"STRIKE ONEEE!" The umpire exclaimed, as you inhaled deeply. You reminded yourself that there were two more throws. He'd get it! You knew he would! The pitcher pitched again, and you watched as Yamamoto swung the bat with everything his body had, hitting the ball to the right field. To your delight (along with the hardcore baseball fans in the stands) the boy stole to second base. Another batter hit the ball, but only managed to run to first base. Bases loaded. The batter after that stepped up the plate, with his lips pursed in a firm line. Everyone sat in silence knowing that the baseball player, Watanube Tanaka, was going to be Namimori's last hope. With two outs in the last inning, he was sure to feel the pressure. "STRIKE ONE!" The umpire called out. "STRIKE TWO!" Again came the ball. The air was thick until a loud, satisfying crack cut through the tension. The ball flew to the outfield as those on the bases immediately jumped to life. One run, two runs, three runs! Namimori won narrowly by one!

Everyone jumped up from their seats, cheering and you couldn't help but join in. You ran down the stands by an old oak tree to meet your boyfriend, where you two would always meet after a game. Clad in his pin-striped uniform, Yamamoto wrapped an arm around your shoulder and nearly collapsed on you, his whole body feverish. You immediately took him home, and took care of him with his father hovering worriedly. After an hour, his soft brown eyes flickered opened as he brought a hand to the damp towel on his forehead.

"...Did we win?" He asked sweetly, as you nearly fell over. Was playing baseball really like second nature to him?

Yes, it really was. It was kind of ridiculous how the game was practically an extension of the boy himself. Playing the game seemed effortless to him, and all baseball players looked at him with envy, while all of the girls... well, they looked at him with something else. It was alright. You didn't mind after all - you understood how they felt. How on earth did a baseball god get with you anyways? It was a long story. You were in the same class as he was and after a _looong_ time, God of Oblivious finally realized that you were crushing on him, and asked you out. _Finally_. You guys went on the first date, and probably fought more then you ever had in your whole year of dating...

"How is student government going for you?" Yamamoto asked, a smile gracing his features as he sipped at his pomegranate juice. His lips puckered slightly as he glanced down at the burgundy liquid. "Sour." He explained with a laugh as you continued, smiling.

"We voted on funding today. It makes me angry how a lot of our money went to the baseball team instead of things that we really need. Do the baseball players really need another field? There are more important things than baseball." You said, the smile dropping off of your face, the topic irritating you. A scowl took over your features, until Yamamoto broke you free from your thoughts.

"Haha, what could be more important than baseball?" Yamamoto questioned, as you realized that you'd dug yourself into a rather deep hole. Trapped. You were trapped like a pelican in the slick, black, oily water in the Gulf. You mentally swore at yourself. How could you've forgotten that baseball was Yamamoto's claim to fame at Namimori? How would you tell a boy whose life was baseball that you didn't like the sport? You looked upwards from your glass to his smiling face, his upturned lips giving you an eerie feeling. He didn't _look_ angry, but the air between you two suddenly turned cold…

You managed to dig yourself out of that one. You didn't remember _how_ it happened, but thankfully, you did. Although you got out of that conversation without getting hit in the head with his baseball bat, he learned that you didn't like the sport he practically lived for. But, to be quite honest, you didn't give it much of a chance. It's not like you'd ever been to a baseball game...

"Haha, so I guess you haven't been to a game, huh?" Yamamoto asked, draping his arm around your shoulder. You took his hand in yours before you replied, laughing.

"Not since the last time you asked me, Takeshi." He laughed along with you as he waved a flier in your face. You took it and scanned it. A flier from school for a baseball game. He'd always tried to get you to go to them but your response was always the same. No.

"Another one of these? Oh, Yamamoto. I don't - !" He silenced you with a quick peck on the lips, one of the first kisses during your relationship. You gazed into his eyes. "Hmm...?" You finished, as loud laughter bubbled from his lips.

"It's important to me. Makio Middle is going to be heard to beat, especially with their amazing fielding and star players. So... it'd be nice if you were there. For me." Your eyes melted into his deep brown ones and you could swear that he asked with his big puppy dog eyes. How could you've resisted those eyes? Not a chance. You couldn't have, and you were never able to. In fact, you can recall always giving into him. You reminded yourself not to be a damn push-over but you could help it. You never could, not even when you were upset...

"Oh, Naito, you're a fan of Kikumomo Sakura too?" Yamamoto had asked Naito Longchamp as your gaze lingered upon him and then flickered to the bikini clad woman on the wall. You scrutinized her for a moment. A pretty cute face coupled with huge boobs...? Well, of course your horny boyfriend was a fan of her...

"No way! She's just a camouflage to hide my super porn magazines!" Naito was just about to pull one out to show Yamamoto before Haru clobbered him. Good thing too, because you were just about to do it yourself. You didn't like him at all. He had weird pack-rat habits and creepy girlfriends. Ugh. You decided not to say anything about it, and instead, you just left the Longchamp house seething as you headed to your own home. After an hour or so, Yamamoto had arrived on your doorstep with his trademarked smile on his face.

"Hi!" He greeted, as your normally grinning face remained expressionless. You were pissed, damnit, and you were not going to let his cheesy smile win you over. Not this time.

"...Hi." You replied, as silence filled the air. His small smile stayed on his features as you two locked eyes, partaking in a staring contest of sorts to see who would break the silence first. To no one's surprise, you did. "Do you really read stuff like that?" You asked, referring to the pornos earlier. He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck before replying sheepishly.

"Yeah, a little bit. Only a little bit." He answered. You'd turned an _attractive_ shade of pink and slammed the door in his face back then but you understood and accepted it now. You always did. As far as cool girlfriends went, you were number one. Rather admirable on your part, considering how many fans he had. You were chill about practically everything. Well, except for when he got hurt, or went missing weeks on end.

You remember when some freak named Ken bit into your boyfriend's arm. With what, you had no fucking clue, but the teeth marks were deep, leaving scars for all to see, even to this day. You remember swearing to beat this "Joshima Ken" character into next week and with your "scary girlfriend channel" it could happen.

You also remember when he left without a trace. You'd been worried sick and lost an incredible amount of sleep over him. When he finally appeared, words couldn't express how relieved you were that he wasn't laying face-down, naked in a cave somewhere, an outcome that could've only been thought up with your creative mind in a boring math class. He didn't tell you where he went, what happened or where he got all his cuts and bruises. Just that he was back for good, and that he would stay with you forever. Good enough for you.

A somber, elderly man walked out of the room that you sat next to and allowed you to enter it. You stood up and walked slowly into the room, butterflies zooming around in the pit of your stomach, dreading what you were going to see.

Yamamoto Takeshi was the sweetest boy you'd ever known. The sweetest, kindest boy that there was. A boy who smiled at practically everyone, a boy who gave candy to crying children, a boy who helped the elderly carry their groceries to their _fucking_ houses, so why?

Why the _fuck_ was he in the hospital?

Why the fuck was he in the hospital?

**Why the fuck was he in the hospital?**

_Why the fuck was he in the hospital?_

Why the fuck was he in the condition he was in?

Laying on the hospital bed.

Blood crusted to his face.

That beautiful, unsmiling face.

Hooked up to a machine to help him breathe.

In that vegetative state.

His hands cold.

His body lifeless.

The brown eyes that you adored.

Closed.

You fell onto your knees as you took one glance at him, finding it hard to breathe. You buried your face into your hands as you started to sob quietly, your whole body shaking.

Who would do this to him?

As his father walked into the room and laid a hand on your shoulder. Only one thought ran through your mind.

_Love is pain. _


	7. Less Than Three

_Less Than Three

* * *

__Spanner says: _Less than three.  
_You say: _what?  
_Spanner says: _That's how I feel about you. Less than three.  
_Spanner says: _Talk to me after you figure it out. I don't want to talk to you before then, alright?  
_You say: _spanner, what on earth are you talking about?  
_Spanner says: _Night.  
_Spanner is offline.  
You say: _SPANNER! WHAT THE FUCK?  
_Spanner appears to be offline. Any messages you send will be delivered when they sign in. _

Less than three? What was that? You two had been friends for nearly _ages_, and he'd never said anything so cryptic. Not when he was trying to explain quantum mechanics in "layman's terms" or, or... not even when he helped you do your math homework. Something about... Triple... integrals? In circular - no - cylindrical coordinates. _That's_ what it was. You definitely didn't do very well in that math class, but with his help, you managed to score an 80%. Quite a feat in your eyes - shame, shameful in Spanner's. _What the fuck ever, Spanner. _

You met him in high school back when you lived in Italy in your advanced Italian class. It was actually one of the only things you were good at, academically anyways, and you two had a competition to see who got a higher grade. You did, of course, as your Italian was excellent. Well, he didn't seem to mind losing too much as you ended up becoming good friends. To your surprise, he was much smarter than he'd let on in Italian, so you leeched off of him for math and science homework. Not that he minded, and that's how it went through college, too. Thank goodness for Spanner. How else would you have graduated college? You majored in Japanese anyways though, so you weren't required to take the extensive number of math and science classes that he did. Yeah, as far as your relationship went, it was just... Best friend stuff.

In high school, most everyone thought you two were going to get together, even your beloved Italian teacher, but it never happened. You played with that idea for a while back then too, though. He dated while you were single and when he was single, you were dating. It never seemed to work out, so you'd long forgotten about any underlying feelings your heart held for him. Instead you two stuck together like glue and spent practically every waking moment together. That is, when he wasn't working on his geeky science experiments. Just friends. Really. So, what did he feel about you?

Just thinking about it confused you. You heaved a sigh and walked over to your pantries, needing something to distract you. The grumbling of your stomach and the sight of your empty cupboards was good enough as you slipped into your shoes to walk to the grocery store near your apartment complex. The streets of Japan were so crowded! Yes, you'd moved from the beautiful Italian countryside and to this hustling, bustling city after college. With a major in Japanese, what would you be doing anywhere else? Japan was also where Spanner was, a fact that only solidified your reason for moving.

You walked into the grocery store and picked up a basket at the front of the shop as you thought. You wanted to talk to him, but he was definitely stubborn enough to actually go through with not talking to you until you figured out the mysterious "less than three". God, it wasn't like he was doing anything _interesting_ anyways. He was probably fiddling with the Moscas again to do his bidding, even though there was no need for them - the time of war was over, thank goodness. The thought of the Mini-Moscas made you laugh, though. Three or four of them always zoomed around Spanner's house, cleaning, cooking, organizing. They were cute, and with rechargeable batteries to boot! You wanted one, and you knew that Spanner would've been more than happy to give you one, but... Your apartment was too small, and you knew you'd get sluggish with one. Too bad.

Although you hadn't figured the secret out yet, you decided to give it a shot. You pulled out your cellphone and held his speed-dial number. Three. You held it up to your ear and waited patiently for the rings. You picked up a jar of peanut butter and flipped to the back of it, where its label was. You examined the caloric value for a moment before throwing it into your basket. Good enough. Riiing. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.

"Did you figure out what it means?" His low voice asked, as you frowned. What kind of greeting was that? Did hellos become as rare as the women in Namimori? Hi to you too, Spanner...

"And if I did?" You prompted, grabbing a loaf of bread and placing it gently into your basket. Bread was a staple, an important part of your life, sort of like a certain blonde super nerd who was kind of, _slightly_, getting irritating. A chuckle sounded from his throat.

"So, what's your response? To the less than three?" The tone in his voice made you bristle. You knew he was grinning on the other end of the phone, knowing that you had _no idea_ what that meant. Damn you, Spanner!

"Give me a hint, you ass!" You muttered, dropping a bag of Spanner's second favorite lollipops into your basket without a thought. (The first ones being the ones he created…) You were always buying little things for him, even though he insisted that he didn't need it. You didn't mind. It was always nice buying things for others. "Did you give our relationship a numerical value? Because, if you did and it's only less than three, I'll be offended." You said, flatly as his laugh sounded again from the phone. You eyed the apples from where you stood. They were cheap this week, so you picked up four and placed them in a plastic bag. "Any day now on the hint?" You placed the apples into your basket along with a bunch of grapes.

"How I feel about you. Less than three. Bye." He disconnected the call as you sighed and focused on your grocery shopping. That didn't help at all. Stupid nerd. You perused through the store looking for any sales and specials that interested you. Your budget was kind of tight. With a major in Japanese and a minor in marketing, it was a little difficult to make money that you could be frivolous with. You had a job with a small advertising company, and did some freelance editing work, so you were satisfied. You were doing what you loved, which was the most important part. You decided that nothing in the store interested you, so you paid for your things and left. On your way home, you had a great idea.

You pulled out your phone and dialed Irie Shoichi.

"Hello?" FINALLY! A hello!

"She called you? Predictable." Spanner's voice said in the background as you groaned. Of course the two were together. Of FREAKING COURSE! Probably playing video games or something.

"You called because of less than three, right? I'll help you out. Draw what you think less than three is and turn it. Good luck." He said, before hanging up the phone. You stared at your phone for a moment and sighed, before flipping it closed. That didn't help either. You arrived at your apartment, starved. You made yourself a sandwich and sat in front of the computer with it, along with a glass of water and a bunch of grapes. You glanced at your contact list and was disappointed to see that practically all of the Vongola men were on, but no women. Your phone vibrated, so you flipped it open. You read the text as a smile came to your face.

_You called Irie? Really? Cheap. _

Cheapshmeap. You did anything for answers, opinions be damned.

_I believe you said something along the lines of, don't talk to me until you figure it out… LOL. _

You flipped your phone closed with a chuckle, knowing that throwing his own words into his face was the one thing he hated more than those three letters at the very end of your text. "LOL" was the bane of his existence, and you made sure to use it. Your sole purpose seemed to be pushing his buttons, kind of like that graphing calculator he was constantly attached to. That shut him up for a while, and your eyes flicked upwards to the computer monitor. Perfect timing! Haru just signed on!

_You say: _HARU, I NEED HELP!

_Haru says: _Hahi?

You explained the whole situation with Spanner to her, slightly annoyed by her interruptions. Well, it wasn't like she could help it. If you wanted her to help you, you needed to put up with it. In the end, she didn't help you much at all, going off on a tangent about something the Vongola boys were doing.

_Haru says: _Hahi? I just… I accidentally hit the shift key while I was pressing a comma.

_You say: _well, yes, it happens. especially with how fast you type.

_Haru says: _Well, I know! But, then I put it with a three!

Your eyes widened as you did it yourself. A less than sign and a three. You turned it sideways and it turned into a -! You nearly jumped as your door bell rang. You rushed to the door and flung it open as you spotted Spanner standing in front of you. Your eyes widened slightly as you spotted the small poster-board between his hands. It was a less than sign and a three. You gently pulled it from his grasp and turned it, vertically, before handing it back to him.

_A heart?_

He grinned as he brushed a hand through his hair, an action so familiar to you it made you smile back at him. "You figured it out, huh?"

"Not without some help, admittedly. Why didn't you just tell me that you liked me? You seriously had to make me figure it out?" You questioned putting your hands on your hips. He placed his hands on your wrists and slid them downwards, so that your fingers were interlaced.

"It's much more fun watching you struggle, trying to figure out what I was trying to tell you." He said as you pulled him inside, a quiet laugh sounding from your lips.

"Come inside. I bought you candy." You said, leading him into your apartment and pulling your hands away from his. You picked up the bag of lollipops and tossed them over in his direction before grabbing two glasses. You didn't even have to ask to know that he wanted a glass of water with _crushed_ ice cubes in it. "So, tell me, when did you start liking me?" You asked. You were strangely calm, despite the fact that he revealed his feelings about you.

"Mm, I think since you got a higher grade than me in Italian that one year in high school." Spanner answered, ripping the bag of candy open and pulling one out of its plastic wrap. You almost dropped the glass you were holding, as you whipped your neck in his direction.

"THAT LONG!" You exclaimed, bringing a hand up to massage your sore neck. Your astonished expression made him laugh. He stood up from the seat by your dining room table and leaned against the counter you stood behind.

"You think I _liked_ staying up until the ungodly hours of the night to help you with math homework?" You laughed, and with that, you made your way over to him and gave him a hug. A tight hug. This hug was different from the other ones you've given him, a hug of the senses. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the artificial grape scent of the candy, the softness of his body, the sight of him in front of you. You could practically taste the sweet sugar on your tongue as your gazes locked. He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and brought his lips down upon yours. Sweet, but passionate, a kiss that gave while it took, satisfying two humans' deepest desire… Grape flavored.

"Love is…" You started against his lips. He finished off your sentence with a smile against his kiss.

"Love is less than three."


	8. 爱情

爱情**

* * *

**"Draw, draw, draw!" I-Pin exclaimed, taking your hand and pulling you downwards to her level. A smile touched your lips as you bobbed your head up and down in agreement. She scrambled over to a drawer and pulled it out with a bit of a struggle. It flew open, revealing a set of inks, four paintbrushes and a thick pad of paper – everything you needed to draw, draw, draw.

Ever since I-Pin learned that you had visited China, she'd been attached to you, badgering you about all of the details. The trip had been a fond memory, so you didn't mind going on and on about it, especially to a girl with I-Pin's enthusiasm. She retrieved two brushes and two ink containers, one blue and the other black. I-Pin scurried over to the table and sat down in her usual chair topped with two thick dictionaries. You brought a bowl of clear water to the table and sat down next to her.

"China, China, China!" She demanded, dipping a paintbrush into the black ink. She held it perpendicular against the smooth paper and started to write, something you could never master. How could holding it up perfectly vertical on the thin tip of the brush create such perfect characters? Her characters were thick at the right places and angled just perfectly, an indication of years and years of practice. Chinese was so difficult, similar to Japanese kanji. Now she drew a figure you were familiar with.

月. Moon! The Chinese character and the Japanese kanji for it was exactly the same, so that was easy for you. You picked up a brush and dipped it into the blue ink. You brought it to the paper and drew a large crescent moon. I-Pin giggled as you started to tell her all of the things you saw in China. You had stayed in Shanghai for a couple of weeks, so you told her all about it. The sights, the scents, the sounds.

The roads were filled with cars, bikes, motorbikes and taxis, zooming around with a place to go. The people hurried across the sidewalks, chattering to each other or on cellphones, seemingly too busy to stop and smell the coffee. A sweet scent.

The air was filled with the scent of gasoline and various odors wafting from the myriad of restaurants lining the streets. The stale air.

You described the sounds to her, taxis beeping constantly, cars zooming by, the melody to the hustling and bustling of the city and the people in it. The soundtrack of the city.

Being from the more rural areas of China, I-Pin reveled in your stories, vowing someday, to see the animated city with her own eyes. She treasured these stories with you, for time together was hard and few. You were almost always busy working on geeky things to enhance the base with Gianni, and she was… she was usually with Lambo or the other women. The time you shared with I-Pin was special and you always saved a place in your heart for her. You picked up your brush and in Japanese, scribbled out a prompt.

_Love is…_

She stared at it for a moment, her mind trying its best to process the Japanese. She read very little Japanese, so it took her a couple of moments to understand what you were trying to stay. After she did understand, she picked up her own brush, and in her impeccable writing, finished off your sentence.

_Love is… _爱情.

"Where are the rest of the herbivores?"

Your eyes widened as you and I-Pin's gaze rested upon Hibari's long, lone figure. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. I-Pin's cheeks turned red before the symbols on her forehead started to appear. _DAMN YOU, HIBARI! _You thought before jumping up and picking her up. You rushed past Hibari and ran into the hallway as she exclaimed in her happy voice,

"Love is 爱情!"


	9. Warmth

_Warmth  
To Farah._

* * *

You were fucking insane. Maybe you just didn't notice it before, but by now, you were fully convinced that you were mentally… not _there_ 100%. Why else would you be standing in front of _his_ door at 3:42 a.m., a time of hour when only witches and ghouls roamed? Oh, you wanted to creep into his room so badly. But… you were damned if you did it, damned if you didn't. For fuck's sake. It was all Bel's fault. It was always Bel's fault.

Mere _hours _before, you simply were sitting on the couch, innocently enjoying a Spanish soap. It had been a long day for you, working hard to upgrade all of the Varia's equipment, from sharpening Bel's knives and Squalo's sword, to reinforcing Lussuria's knee protector, three of the many jobs that required skill and precision, trusted only to the most skilled engineer available. Namely, you.

Your hand rested in a bag of salt and vinegar chips and your eyes were fixed upon the flashing TV. _"Oh, but Eddie, I love you! I love you so much!" _A buxom brunette wailed, before diving into a long stream of Spanish. While you crunched on the greasy chips, you felt the hairs on your arms stand up, but assumed that it was just her horrendous acting that made you antsy. Bad move. Bel's head appeared behind the couch and a quiet snicker sounded in your ear, making you jump. Unfortunately, you didn't get too far. You felt the spider-web wires wrap snugly around your body, their razor sharp edges slipping through your epidermis like a blade against butter. You felt the tiny cuts open up and the blood dripping through the slits, a rusty faucet.

"Bel!" You howled in anguish. "What do you want from me?"

He merely snickered again to himself, jumping over the back of the couch and onto the seat next to you, a demonstration of agility and grace that only managed to make you more irritated. His tongue caressed his upper canines before he made clicking noises with it against the roof of his mouth. You knew better than to wriggle around with the wires around your body, so you just scowled.

"What _do_ you want? I'm in the middle of the telenovela here. Roberto is just about to find out if Loren's baby is his, Blake's, or Antonio's. I _just _fought Squalo for the television thirty minutes ago… give me a break," your gaze rested upon him for a moment, before your eyebrow ached upwards. "Do you _mind_?" He grinned wordlessly, before sauntering over to the DVD player. A gasp escaped your lips after he slipped a CD into it. "I swear, if this is one of those _haunted_ movies…"

"_Three days_," a raspy voice said, as your eyes widened in fear. The words fell from the lips of a clown doll with blood red hair. They'd managed to mesh all of your irrational fears into one movie – where did he get such a thing? You heard Bel snigger again, before you felt a lump grow in your throat. It was going to be a long movie.

…_And it was_. You felt yourself shrivel a little bit inside every time a fountain of blood spewed from a chopped off limb, or decapitated head. Sure, it sounded ridiculous, but your senses were heightened by the edge of Bel's knife. It haphazardly scraped against your skin, dangerously. Your eyes glanced over at a glass door, where Squalo's reflection lingered for only a minute. Your eyes met, as you practically pleaded for him to come get you out of this room.

He didn't. God _damnit._

You shivered as you brushed your hand against your reddened arm. You hadn't dared move, and you were unable to tear your eyes away from the television. When it was a finished, he finally, _finally_ let you go, slinking away into the shadows. Then came bedtime. It'd been three hours, _three hours_, of you tossing and turning in your bed sheets. You tried to rest, tried to think about something else, but all you could think about were the maggots crawling out of the corpses' eye sockets, and all of the blood. You got out of bed multiple times, and walked down to your workplace. You tried to distract yourself with work, but… it was a challenge, hearing the metal grate against the grinder.

Unconsciously, your feet brought you here. In front of _his_ door, a strong, solid wooden door.

A tingle scurried down your spine at the thought before you placed your hand on the doorknob and turned. Unlocked, thank goodness. Quiet breathing greeted your scream-deafened ear after your bare toes met shaggy gray carpet, the door closing with a _squeaaak_ and a _click_ behind you. Soft snores echoed in the spacious room, making your heart-rate slow down, dulling the pounding on your chest.

"Psst. Are you asleep?" No response. You crept over to the side of his bed and eyed him for a moment. His long hair was splayed across his cotton pillow-case, with the moonlight filtering into the room through a large window by the headboard. The light touched the strands, making it glint silver in the otherwise dark room. "Hey. Can I come in?" You asked quietly, a moot point, considering the fact that he was a rather heavy sleeper. A grunt sounded in the silence, as you heard his body shift onto its side. Good enough for you. You crawled in and snuggled up next to his warm body, the familiar warmness bringing a small smile to your lips.

These warm moments were the reasons you didn't hightail it out of the Varia when he drove you nuts. When Xanxus cursed at you. When Levi stared at you at the corner of his beady eyes. When Mammon followed you around, bugging you for money that you lost to him in that game of poker last night. You had no idea when you started to crawl into his bed, and why he didn't seem to mind, but you didn't care about the details. All that mattered was him, you, and the shared warmth... You felt your eyes flutter closed, as a yawn escaped your lips….

"…VOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, WOMAN!" You heard a voice exclaim, as your eyes pulled open slowly. You squinted at the silver-haired figure that loomed over you, before sitting up.

"Hey, you said I could come in!" You laughed, brushing a hand through your hair. A scowl decorated Squalo's face before he shook his head.

"Why did you come in here?"

"You know why. Hey, Squalo, don't you usually sleep with your door locked?" You asked, raising your eyebrow in his direction before he climbed out of the bed.

"Tch." In an instant, he was out of the bed, and you were left staring at his bare back. You lay back in the bed, smiling slightly as his warmth lingered next to you, the shape of his body forever pressed into the memory foam mattress. As you closed your eyes again, you thought with a smile, '_love is…love is warmth.'_


	10. Hand-Written

_Hand-Written by formerly omgpink, now fauvist_

* * *

A story is prettier when written in gel pen. So is a date, or a signature. The handwriting is shimmering and round and the words become jewels. So it all began, engraved in sweet purple gel pen with love.

"My first crush," you gushed in enormous bubble letters on a sheet of paper in a shabby green, spiral-bound notebook.

"Mochida-senpai," you whispered over the sparkling name. Fireworks of shojo feathers sprinkled down about your head and glowed with moonshine.

That upperclassman was so confident. He beat his chest like an ape! Of course he would catch your eye. You thought of him as the toughest kid in school. He made you weak and nervous, and you were too embarrassed to tell him how you felt. But that pea-green notebook you kept under your mattress and slept on every night heard all your confessions, and took all the brunt and punches of your pathetic love.

When you caught glimpses of Mochida leaning on his locker, you wrote about it in your notebook. Oh, his posture, his slim figure! Whenever your eyes met while classes were changing, a little tally mark was added to the list of 'he looked at me' on the page dedicated to the title 'Why we're destined to be together.' You thought of giving him the cookies you made in home economics while you decorated them sloppily with chocolate sprinkles. Everything you made seemed to remind you of Mochida. He was always on your mind. You were smitten, and a fool in love. You wondered if you would marry him one day. All these thoughts were beaten into that notebook that kept you sane. No one could know you liked Mochida-senpai because, well, why would he ever give you a second glance? Why would he grab your hand and say he'd fight for you before a kendo match? No boy could live up to your imagination. Thus, secretly, you built him up in your mind into a tower you could never climb.

But then came that day you saw him holding Kyoko's hand, demanding chocolate from her. He called her his if he won! You had to make something–anything–happen between the two of you.

So that was why you couldn't wait until high school to transform from a clean-nailed child to a gloss-lipped teenager. And that was how you were given your first detention. In biology. Feet hammocked in the basket of the desk in front of you. Your hand was planted on the spiral-bound green notebook and your eyes narrowed in concentration as you applied electric pink paint to your nails. You thought you had hidden well behind the fat Tomo-san. With but three neon fingernails, the paint was confiscated by the teacher and replaced with a slip of the same color.

* * *

_Desk A-1_

Your name was written in neat kanji on a seat assignment. The seat assignment was clipped onto a clipboard, which hung from the disciplinary committee's door on a piece of twine. You sat in desk A-1 inanimate–the first and only pawn on a limited edition collectible chess table. A chess table few wished to challenge. You watched the clipboard swing on its twine from when the door was opened by Kusakabe, the Vice Disciplinary Committee Chairmen. You hid your embarrassing fingers in a weak fist.

You were supposed to be doing homework. You had an essay to start. However, words were difficult to force at the moment. You were nervous and disappointed in yourself about this first detention. Your childish purity and innocence were tainted. Yankees got detention, not girls like you. What were you going to tell your parents?  
But by ten minutes of the hour in, detention had lost its edge. Maybe detentions all boiled down to a slap on the wrist? You still didn't feel like writing that essay. By now, the pencil had stopped swinging on the clipboard from where it hung on the door. You settled into your lefty desk like a cat, watching the only thing that moved now: Kusakabe.

Kusakabe was an upperclassman, like Mochida. How well did they know each other? They sure didn't look like friends. Call it a hunch, but Mochida would never put that much effort into his hair.

"Kusakabe-senpai, I.. I… I love you," you choked out, drawing from deep within your heart words tagged for Mochida.

"Huh?" the senior blurted, looking up with an unprepared hesitation.

"I like Kusakabe-senpai the most." you smiled, getting into it. "You're so kind! I like to spend time with you!" But your smile was nervous enough, didn't flicker enough like a flame in the rain. Yes, you were teasing, venting, damn, you wanted to finish what you started on your hands. Meanwhile, Kusakabe was looking at you like he was trying to read your mind.

Blushing, he cleared his throat and said, "Don't speak during detention." His pen returned to his work.

"But Kusakabe-senpai, I have been holding my tongue for the past ten minutes and I really can't take keeping it to myself anymore. I really like you! You're really handsome," you earnestly leaned over your desk, "and—"

"Do not speak during detention," Kusakabe interrupted. He smiled confidently and softly, and continued, "I have enough on my plate as it is. Besides, even if I he wanted to," he assumed a serious tone as if making fun of people who talk like this, "Disciplinary committee members aren't allowed to return such feelings."

"But, senpai," you protested.

"Settle down. Settle down."

"Let's go out together! There's no one to stop us."

Kusakabe queer look, like he was trying to distinguish a dolphin's dorsal fin from a shark's.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," you whispered.

Kusakabe tapped his pen. "I'm not interested. It would be better for you if you stopped talking, too," he said at last, locking down on his work. His big hair hid his face.

"I—I—I'm sorry—I was joking… umm, just don't think I'm serious," you said, "if it's like that." Kusakabe wasn't someone you could talk to anymore. He refused to talk, tightened into a stern flatness, and the remaining forty-five minutes were horrifyingly awkward.

Confessions were a queer experience, especially when they were with someone you had no feelings for. But you had wanted to try it and practice the words you read and heard and in Casablanca and Titanic. Of course, the embarrassment settled like pancake batter in the frying pan when you got the vibe that Kusakabe had taken you seriously.

Still, you had gotten something dreadful out of your system, perhaps a weevil of regret in your young and wholesome heart. Adults say these are the times to follow your heart and to make memories, but look at you. You were too afraid to speak to the boy who stood do confidently in his Kendo suit. You were losing hope in Mochida. He was a year older, so you weren't in any of the same classes. You had only spoken with him once, during a volleyball match in gym class that his class participated in because a teacher was absent. You hadn't managed to catch his eye in the hallway and this failure continued for another two weeks. One-side glances fleeted like foxes in Namimori's halls. The roller-coaster of over-analysis snatched you up—what he brought for lunch in the cafeteria, or when he asked you if Kyoko was "out sick or something." Or even, when he started making a big deal, as you walked by, that some kid was a total jerk—a complete Nazi—as if he were trying to get your attention?

In fifth period, you hunched over your notebook like a goblin counting gold and scribbling your katakana in lime green. And just as you had sworn in your notebook, dedicating a page to his name to bless your heart with courage, he was ripped away from your grasp. He hadn't come to school.

"To where?" You inquired from Kyoko.

"Oh, a Kendo Competition. Yamamoto was talking about it, so he could tell you more. I don't know much about those tournaments," she said before turning back to Tsuna. You buried yourself into a bitter turnip for the rest of algebra class, head planted firmly in your hands. And that was how you scored your second detention. The teacher had called on you to answer a question, your dazed look not one of a student paying attention. You did not hear the question, and asked, "less than three?" meekly.

So there was your name again, perfect and alone on the detention attendance on the Disciplinary Committee's door. You trudged in, slid your backpack off, and plopped into that same desk in the front row on the right-hand side. An ugly, distracted, and knitted brow plagued your face like two struggling bears.

But once again, after ten minutes with your head on the desk, you felt stronger and calmer. A touch more solitary and stronger for it. The red string you saw on your finger that connected you to Mochida slackened… faded, disappearing like a strand of broken spider silk. You lifted your head up from sulking to bug Kusakabe once again, but your eyes met a different prefect. The head one with his immaculate uniform and stern Japanese eyes. You weren't certain about his name because you weren't as well-informed about the Disciplinary Committee as the troublesome students, but luckily, it was written on his armband.

"Hibari-senpai," you began with that flicker of your curving mouth, "You're very handsome. You must have a girlfriend!" you said. You picked up your gel pen as if you might actually getting some homework done. Hibari's snapped his eyes at you. He looked at you stern and pissed, and then, went back to scratching his mechanical pencil on his own homework. You weren't sure what he was writing, but you were ignorant that it involved Hibari's sketchy body clean-up service.

"Hibari-senpai, you have such pretty eyes." You smiled and giggled into your fist. "Do you get a lot of chocolates on Valentine's Day?" A hint of bitterness and jealousy momentarily leaked out, but you shoveled sand quickly over the bottom of that sandbox. "Everyone must like you to have been voted in as Head of the Disciplinary Committee! You can get any girl, I bet." You didn't care anymore what was thought of you, and everything on your mind tended to leak out of your mouth if not into your diary. "Hibari-senpai, have you ever been in a relationship?" You put your head down on your desk and looked at him like a tired old dog. Hibari finished a sheet and put it in a pile.

His 'none of your business' glare slid over you like a rag smearing oil as he told you to not speak.

"But Hibari-senpai," you said, matter-of-factly, cheek pressed into your arm, "I like you the most." The freedom of those words! Sure, they weren't meant for the prefect, but for that beloved, manly kendo player that was the husband of all your fantasies, but nonetheless. There was something in the action, in the fake words, and the fake feeling rotating with real ones in your Ferris wheel heart.

"I mean, you are really skinny, and you don't have a lot of muscle, and neither are you really tan and stuff," you ranted, "Like Yamamoto-kun, who all the girls like, but I think you're my ideal type! Every time I see you, my heart, like, breaks into a million tiny pieces."

"Stop pestering me and do your homework."

"How can I do my homework when the one I love is near?"

"What is wrong with you?"

"Hibari, oh, Hibari," and you continued to repeat the melodramatic lines from Shakespeare's balcony scene. Romeo was your entire persona—a real lover-girl always with a crush. "My homework is to memorize and practice my lines for Drama Club's Shakespeare play," you smiled winningly. "Did you hear about it?"

"Well, you got your lines wrong."

"Well, it's not that easy."

"What? Are you admitting you're stupid?"

"No, I'm not stupid."

"Then stop talking."

You lifted your head from your desk, that sour brow returning. Hibari returned to his work, finishing lines and starting new ones like an efficient typewriter but without the clacking.

"Hibari-senpai, I'm sorry I irritated you. I do like you the most."

"Do you want to die?"

"Hibari-senpai, if I get another detention, I will get to be near you again!"

—And you were shoved into the sunshine of the courtyard. Your backpack was chucked hard at your back and you stumbled even further forward. You were free! Not twenty minutes in! You grabbed your bag, and then walked to the corner store to buy a weekend stock of shojo manga. Mochida was on your mind, his muscular profile leaning against his locker like the hero in _Love Me Up!_ The glossy covers shined under painted nails at the check-out.

Maybe you would drop your crush for Mochida this weekend, or maybe your yearning for him would become more powerful with you separation.  
But back inside the Disciplinary Committee's room, Hibari touched the back of his flushed neck and continued scribbling in peace.

"Hmph."


End file.
